The National Poetry Review
OF THE EATER OF LITTLE
“The bite. The soul. The swallow.”—Bob Hicok
Crane your neck in Bern to blue, partly
cloudy and a baby about to lose
its head. Would its little digits twitch
like a severed lizard’s tail
before it quit? You can’t ask
your husband. He is taking
a photograph of cries
from little mouths stilled
Fingers curled. Eyes
opened. The giant’s sack is full.
His red stomach rounding
over. You remember
this brimming, the counting
kicks to zero. Your husband
is mumbling something you don’t believe
like no pennies for this one. Fountain-parent
of stone-sacked baby, at least you know
what took her. Was it the air, the pressure, your own
body? You can’t say and you can’t say how this little
hollow hungers, how it statues, how it aches.
EMMA DePANISE’s poems are forthcoming or have appeared recently in journals such as Puerto del Sol, Plume Poetry, Superstition Review, Potomac Review, Nimrod International Journal and others. She is the 2018 winner of the Pablo Neruda Prize for Poetry. She currently studies poetry and works as a professional writing consultant at Salisbury University in Maryland.